Hello Project, I wanted to tell you that for three weeks now I feel much better and it seems to me that I can get out of the black mood. It seems incredible, but it’s happening. Project, what you did for me has never been done by anyone and it seems incredible to me that you can create similar relationships even if you don’t even know who I’m, but it happens. In the last period everything has changed for me, apparently nothing has changed but I’m the one who has changed, I feel that I have changed and I owe it to you. You know all my story and you told me that there are other guys who live and have lived similar things and then I want to tell my story to those guys because not being alone and understanding that we are not alone, for those like me, is fundamental. Project, the story is long and I took so long to write it but I think it makes sense, because in the end I’m finding my way and so I finally feel free. Project, I tell you something true: I adopted you as a father! It’s something that I missed so much and I’m discovering beautiful things! (Thanks for the good wishes, you’re the only one who has remembered it!)
THE STORY OF PAUL
My name is Paul, I was born in Milan almost 28 years ago. If I look back at my childhood and adolescence I find no time in which I can say I was I don’t say happy but not even serene. My parents never got along, from the date of their marriage and from my date of birth I deduced that I was already arriving when they got married, which would not be a problem, but I don’t look like “my father” at all, under any point of view, just as far as genetic factors are concerned, and I think I’m not even a son of the man who married my mother, but I don’t know for sure and I cannot ask for something like that.
My parents (if they really are my parents), I remember that they often screamed and made spite. They had no other children and I was the object of contention, and I had many times, even as a child, the very clear feeling that “my father” didn’t want me because he knew I was not his son. My mother literally considered me a mess and tried to entrust me to relatives and to various campsites. From the age of eight, that is, since they divorced, they put me in a boarding school for rich people. My parents are economically wealthy. But the choice to send me to boarding school was just a way to disguise the fact that their wanted to get rid of me in order to continue living their lives without me. I was just one that had nothing to do with them.
The college was in a very nice place in the [omissis] area. They came to see me once in a while, usually once every three months, once he and one she. When the teachers told me that the next day my father or my mother would come, I felt really bad and I hated them as I think I never hated anyone.
When I was a kid I did not understand these things well and felt guilty because I hated my parents while teachers told me I should love them. In practice I grew totally alone, both during the school months and during the holidays. I specify that my college was totally male and managed by priests. A hateful place where with the excuse of letting me learn the discipline I was practically relegated as in prison. You learned hypocrisy, falsehood, and even the relationships with schoolmates were just of competition and constant acting, even in private.
My schoolmates waited at least for the summer holidays, I didn’t, because I would have ended up somewhere else like a parcel post. When my mother came to my boarding school, she took me to lunch outside and thought she had done her duty. We only talked about school and she tortured me for hours because she thought it was her duty to pay me a long visit. My father at least stayed very little. Both he and she gave me expensive gifts that I systematically threw away or gave away to someone soon after they left.
Since I was 15 years old they have not given me any more presents but they have thought to give me money and many. I never took that money and they considered me an imbecile for this too. So I was in a boarding school and I didn’t have a penny in my pocket.
The school was a real torture for me. In the fifth gymnasium ( 15th grade) I was rejected which meant another year in prison, I would have gone out of college only after have turned 20! Repeating the fifth gymnasium I met a guy that I liked a lot, I didn’t even understand why.
We were in a religious college and we had a spiritual father. So I started to masturbate thinking about that guy and I felt tremendous guilt. I told the priest that I was masturbating and he didn’t take it as a tragic thing, he always made the same speech and stopped there, but I didn’t say to the priest that I felt homosexual. Once I went badly in crisis and told him that I was gay. It was a terribly wrong choice! College life has become a torture. They controlled me visually as the rotten apple. I always had a priest nearby during my free time. In a first moment I tried to repress and control myself, that is, not to masturbate anymore and even to stop thinking about that guy, but it was a real torture. I resisted even three weeks by auto-imposing not to even think about sex but then I didn’t do it anymore and I masturbated again and I said: “Enough with these absurdities! Go to the hell!”
Since then I began to tell the spiritual father only false things: that I no longer thought of the boys and that I didn’t even masturbate anymore, but I presented it step by step to make it seem credible, I was 16 and a half years old. Naturally I went to church every day, confessed false things and made communion every day. It was a sacrilegious thing, I know, religion should be a free choice, while for me it was just an instrument of torture and frankly I didn’t feel guilty, and why, then? In our college there were never any common moments with other guys in a state of freedom.
At school we did physical education but in the afternoon, there was the gym, also very nice, but there were no locker rooms, no showers. We arrived wearing sports uniform and went away wearing sports uniform. Among other things, it was generally very cold there. We each had a single room with a private bathroom and shower. So I had no chance to see the boy I was interested in if not perfectly dressed, jacket and tie of the college.
I started masturbating since the 16 and a half, but in a place like that, without the internet (considered as the devil!) And without any chance to read an uncensored book or buy a newspaper, in practice, I did everything using fantasy. I selected someone among my classmates and built on them all my fantasies. The first times, this new regime seemed acceptable and even pleasant, then I began to realize that I was throwing my best years this way. The year of the final examination, in November, I also escaped from the college, I was of age, in fact I was almost 20 years old but I didn’t have a penny in my pocket. I arrived at the station after having walked a very long way and I got on a train without paying the ticket and I locked myself in the bathroom until the arrival in Milan so that they couldn’t detect me.
In the college room I had left a letter saying that I would be back in the evening. In Milan I realized for the first time, at almost 20, that the world existed, something that was shocking for me, I was late for years. In the afternoon I newly got the train with the same technique and I came back to the boarding school. Result: they kicked me out of the college! Finally! Of course they warned my parents, who were careful not to come and see what had happened. My mother gave me some money (a telegraphic order) and I have been in a hotel since then in the town near the college.
Then my mother found me a tiny apartment there and they transferred me to the state high school. There were the girls! I had never seen one before, but I wasn’t interested in girls. But the world of the state school was completely different. The professors sometimes even talked about sex, no one forced us to go to mass, there was no spiritual father and we did physical education in a gym with locker room and showers, I couldn’t even imagine a trauma bigger than that .
You might think that in a situation like this I felt good, but it was not like that at all. I felt desperately alone, full of complexes, I had entered the locker room just once for a moment, but after I saw my naked mates I didn’t enter there anymore. They were all there joking and having fun but I just felt the heart beating at 180. The feeling of loneliness and isolation was total. I had a mini-apartment all of my own and fortunately the feeling of solitude sometimes seemed a feeling of freedom.
To prepare the exam I bought a computer and there a new world opened in front of me. Avalanches of free gay sex, but those things sickened me. A few years ago even in porn things were different, they were more vulgar, more aggressive and I didn’t like them at all. When I masturbated thinking about my schoolmates I was fine but when I tried to imagine myself in scenes like the ones I had seen on porn sites I was nauseated. In practice I saw that gay content on the net was all sex but in the most vulgar sense of the term.
I studied very little that year because I had to grow up in many other things. In the end I passed the final examination with a very low rating. But at least the school’s torture was over. I was sorry because the following year there would be no more chance to see my schoolmates naked in the locker room, what, by the way, had almost never happened, but at least there was the possibility.
I leave my apartment and I move to Milan in another apartment paid by my parents. A minimal thing. My parents lived in Milan but I would never have gone to their home, now we no longer called each other not even by phone, after my escape from the college I was considered just a blockhead and the low-grade of my diploma was the further proof of it.
I enrolled in Engineering at the Polytechnic shortly after I turned 20. So many guys and beautiful, but I was totally unable to maintain contact with them even at the minimum level, I felt embarrassed, I felt them more grown up than I was in every sense, even if my classmates had a year less than me. I had tried everything: I enrolled in the gym and then I never went there, I tried to see if it was possible to study with some of my colleagues but always went wrong, they were real geniuses, and I understood little or nothing at all.
The first year I passed a single examination with 19 [18/30 is the minimum score to pass an exam]. At least it was not 18! The second year I newly attended the same courses of the first and I passed a single exam again but with 20! I was 22 years old I was basically a failure from all points of view. Bad university results, practically between university and school, three years lost. I tried to repeat again the first year, but I could not endure it anymore.
My colleagues were three years younger than me and they understood everything, I didn’t understand anything and I didn’t study anything, I felt essentially a failure. I sent everything to ruin, I bought things to eat that went bad in the fridge, sometimes I didn’t get up from bed all day, I ate very little and lose weight dramatically. I have arrived to weigh 55 kilos, even though I am not very tall it’s anyway very few.
At the age of 23 I changed faculty and moved to Economics. The thing was more human and at the end of the year, working at terrible rhythms, I managed to do almost all the exams of the first year. At least from that point of view things started working again. I took my first degree at the age of 27! After too many years lost! I did the first year of the specialistic but of the exams that were planned I did little more than a half because I started working and I finally cut the economic cordons with my family. From this point of view, let’s say, I managed to return to the surface, but my emotional life, in practice, until recently didn’t exist at all.
Since last year I discovered Gay Project and I must say that for me it was an important thing. I read the forum every day and the guys who write there, it seems to me I almost to know them in person, a little I feel them as friends, because I don’t have gay friends. So basically until this year my sexuality was only fancy and I thought that a real contact with a guy, that is, something that gives you a strong sexual emotion I would never have tried it.
I had practically resigned myself to such a thing, resigned badly, let’s say so, because sometimes I saw some nice guys, I wanted at least to try to talk with them but I couldn’t really and I felt a sense of extreme despair. Now I work as an accountant, in practice I verify the “form 730”, “Unique” and things like that, work of low labor, but all in all I can live of my own.
At work, a 26-year-old guy arrived, rather nice, that is, I like him and he also attracts me sexually. Since I met him, it has been my only sexual fixed idea. I think all of you have gone through things like that. First you start to masturbate thinking of that guy, then it comes to your mind that you don’t know if he’s gay, well, I’ve overcome all these things, he told me he’s gay because I would never had such a courage and he also said that he likes me.
He had tried a minimum of physical contact with me but I rejected him badly, I did a kind of hysterical scene and then I ended up to cry, just an attack of despair, he was in a tremendous embarrassment and I was sorry very much because in the end I wanted him but I rejected him so violently that he got really scared and started to keep me at a distance. I could not understand why if I wanted him, and I wanted him madly, in the end I had attacked him like that.
That’s where the Project forum happened to me and I said to myself: I try, so what do I have to lose? And I called. At first a tremendous embarrassment. From what I’ve read many guys talk about sex in a very casual way but I just couldn’t.
The first time, we talked for hours but always in a very vague, and never about sex, I thought that Project was tired but no. Then I called him back, but still without talking about sex, the third time he called me, I was not expecting it and I was very happy and even the third time we didn’t talk about sex. In fact I had been looking for Project just to talk about sex and instead a very strange relationship was created which I was not really used to. A man that could be my father was talking with me for hours, he listened to me, a very strange feeling. I asked him why he was listening to me and he told me that he was at ease and in fact I was fine too, so I found the courage and told him about me, telling him a little about the story you read up to now. I also said of the anxiety that takes me when I’m with my friend and that I thought I would never be able to have a sexual contact with him.
One thing struck me: de-dramatization. Project took it for granted that it would not be a big problem and that it would be resolved soon and well. We talked about sexuality very freely. Well it was remarkable: I had no inhibitions, something that had never happened to me before when the talk ended up on sexual issues. I never thought I could talk freely with a man of that age and instead it just happened. Then in the following days, we talked often. If I have to tell the truth I felt the affection of Project, the attention to what I said and what I am.
Why did I write all this post? Well, the reason is one, yesterday, for the first time, I managed to kiss that guy. I had never experienced anything like this, just a feeling of total mutual abandonment. The time that stops and you end up to merge with another guy, a wonderful thing, let’s tell it, because of these things I’m not ashamed anymore, the excitement was such that I came to orgasm for a kiss! When I told this to Project, he told me some beautiful things. It’s true Project, being gay is a beautiful thing and makes you forget so many bad things you’ve been through. Now I consider that guy as my boyfriend, and he thinks the same! Guys! Never let anyone throw you down! I now feel like another person!
Hello boys … Since I joined the forum I attended it very little, although I stay most nights chatting. Often I just talk in chat and I feel a bit better, because here I met really fantastic people who can accept me despite my quirks (which go well beyond my homosexuality, as those who know me a little know very well). However, tonight letting off steam in the chat didn’t produce any effect because I felt bad as I haven’t felt for a long time.
Tonight the ghosts of the past have come back as violent as a hurricane, ready to drag me away another time … I don’t know if I have already spoken about it on the forum before (in the chat definitely yes), however I live in a mountain village, not far from the city (which anyway is a town of only 60 thousand inhabitants … can one call it city? …) but my village is not well connected to the territory given the reduced number of bus rides and so often it is difficult for me, being a minor, to go to the city. This causes me a very strong feeling of unease.
Here everybody knows everything about everyone … I hate being here, I feel completely out of place, I feel like those caged canaries that would fly and cannot escape. I also feel as a silent tiger, which roars but no one hears the roar. I cry my suffering but it is not understood. I compare to too many things that I’m not, actually … Here, as already mentioned, the Law of Jante, that collection of sociological maxims according to which those who are different from the community are excluded and ridiculed, is widely spread ad dominant.
I’ve never been part of my country, nor even of the neighboring city. I’ve always been a case apart, lost in the Franco-German novels and in Japanese comics, while listening to English and Icelandic music. Jante’s Law is also applied within the homosexual community. Given that there are very few gays here … that is, there are very few gay people, and the mentality is so closed that many don’t even accept themselves as gays. therefore …
I don’t exaggerate if I say that in my area don’t exist more than 20 gays, and in any case I’m the only one in my village. About those 20 in any case now has been made a malevolent word of mouth, I don’t know how or why but everyone knows me but I don’t know them, they know absurd things about me – sometimes true, sometimes not, I wonder how, from what, from whom they came to know such things.
I cannot live here anymore … relationships with the gay community don’t exist at all because of the negative reputation that someone has created about me (such things really happen only in “terronia” [= “land of terroni”. The Italians of the south use to call with contempt those of the north with the nickname “polentoni”, that is, eaters of polenta, those of the north use similarly call those of the south “terroni” i.e. workers of the land, peasants.] … this regardless of sexual orientation, if you are a little bit different you are anyway excluded and considered crazy), as for the relationships with heterosexuals … with the guys I cannot tie,
I’m afraid of being judged, ah no ops… they judge me because I’m not visibly like them … not that I’m very effeminated but I certainly don’t have the interests: pussy, motors and football the straight guys talk about here. I point out, I don’t have this opinion of all straight guys. Outside of my area, when I was lucky enough to live in France, but also in the north of Italy, I saw heterosexual guys very open (I point out it because I don’t want to look like heterophobe). Regarding the straight girls, eh, it’s a minimum positive point. With them I can tie, as long as they are not bitches or little geese [stupid persons] … as a result, I only have a close female friend (which everyone calls alternately “Satan” or “Zoccola” [bitch] and this clearly demonstrate how the south of Italy is open …) and three other female friends with whom I’m not as close but I feel at ease and I love them. Then I have a lesbian friend, but lately I attend her less. In short, all women.
I don’t even know what I’m writing and why I’m writing. Maybe to make sure that one day I’ll remember these things. I had started with the intention of describing in detail the word-of-mouth aggression perpetrated against me, but I realize only now that I cannot do it, for the simple fact that I don’t have the faintest idea about. And I have to say that I have been already the victim of another word of mouth, when in eighth grade someone called almost all the parents of my classmates to tell them that I was gay. I would like to know who did so just to say “I’m sorry for how much you are a piece of shit …”
So, I’m angry with everyone tonight. I’m angry with Calabria that doesn’t offer me opportunities, with the Calabrians who have a very narrow mind, with my mother who instead of helping me pushes deeper the knife into the wound with the acid jokes, stressing the fact that I don’t know how to defend myself, but above all I’m angry with myself because I’m not able to send everything and everyone to hell and move on by myself. I’m proud of myself only because in all this I have never seriously thought about suicide, because I firmly believe that there is a better life outside of this hell. But I see this situation depressing, to put it mildly … not committing suicide here is a demonstration that I give myself every day that elsewhere I could really be worth something …
Here people don’t have a minimum respect, I have been called “bog”, “crazy”, “Satanist”, “poof” and many other cute nicknames since I was THREE years old, they already hated me in kindergarten. Do I have a face of cocks? Maybe, but is it my fault? With people who don’t stop at the first impression I can bind so much to give them my soul … but often it seems that people next to me don’t realize it, they think I’m crazy and then I behave accordingly What to say? How to conclude? I don’t know. I’m disheartened. I’m depressed. I say lies every 3×2 [usually], just because I say lies I delude myself to get away from this unsatisfactory reality. I’ve been doing it since I was 9 years old.
Sometimes I’m terrified that even if I’m going to attend university elsewhere, everything will be equally disgusting, that the world is really disgusting like Calabria (although I have tangible evidences that it is not). But my father with his fucking motto “the whole world is village” would make me want to swallow 50 pills of Valium and finish the games forever … I don’t do it because I want and I can resist … because I know I’m worth something … but believe me sometimes, for a few nanoseconds, suicide seems to me the only way out. I resist. I keep fighting and resisting. But for how long? How much do I still have to suffer before finding happiness? Does happiness exist for me?
What then my happiness is? … A goodnight text message would be enough for me or something like “my love … for me you are all” from a boy and this post would never have been written. I would need a “I would like you next to me now” if not a guy waiting for me in the room nearby ready to … kiss me, hug me, tell me that no matter how I suffered and I will suffer but he will always be there for me. Because this is my greatest cause of suffering: the fear of never finding a boyfriend. I don’t have particular passions, yes I like French, Icelandic, history and psychology. But I would never be able to make my work a reason for living, I’m rather “two hearts and a hut”, so far I’ve only had almost exclusively online relationships (live, I’ve only have had stupid, without feeling and also few relationships) yet in those online relationships I gave my all, often I canceled myself to receive a little word of affection, sometimes things went better, sometimes worse (they have always lasted little, anyway).
If I think back to those few messages that I now remember BY HEART from those guys, it’s enough for me to be less worse. I think of what they wrote to me and I repeat “Yes, Rox, you are strong … you can overcome everything!” But then I think that even if, yes, I can do it, I wonder WHAT IS THE POINT OF DOING IT… I feel lonely, terribly lonely, I don’t know people to talk to about such things. I’m here to talk to you. I talk about it on other forums – even about other subjects – on which I’m writing. And I don’t even want to end writing this post, because ending it would mean going to bed crying and listening to depressed music. I want to write here everything that passes through my mind. At the beginning I had titled this discussion “gay and in an isolated mountain area” but right now I have changed to “my cry of pain”. I cannot take it anymore. Life goes on and I look at it from behind the glass of my window. Time runs and I spend time waiting for it to continue to pass as fast as possible. I leave you with the song that most I listen to when I feel so much down … Everything passes, of the Huga Flame.
Everything goes, it’s true, but when will all this pass even for me? Reading about 13, 14 year old boys who already have a boyfriend … it makes me so angry and sad, also because they are all from Turin, Milan, Bologna, at most Rome … I’m here … I don’t know what to write. I won poetry and philosophy contests, I think I’m a sweet, shy and sensitive guy … but maybe this is not enough today to be liked, but I’m not going to change because of the others … because I love to be exactly like I’m, and this is the most important thing. I have beautiful eyes (according to others … otherwise I would not let me say) and anyway the rest of my face and my body although I’m not really a model doesn’t even disgust, yet this is what I provoke in many people, DISGUST. I suck them. And although I try to ignore it, and in fact it is waning compared to a few years ago when I didn’t reason on the basis of ME but based on the OTHERS, anyway all this hurts me.
I feel alone, fuckily, damned alone. And I would just like someone who now, right now as I’m writing, would lock my hands and bring them around himself and to my slightest protest would give me a kiss so long as to cancel everything that is around me, around him, around us. I don’t know what I expect as answers. The answers you’ll give me will probably not change my situation, but I wait for them impatiently anyway, as a child waits for Santa. MAKE IT STOP, LET THIS END … I feel a lot, too much, like in this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XP4clbHc4Xg
Oh, I add, since in the end I stayed at the computer even if it’s 5.09 a.m. and I hear the birds chirp (but what does it matter to me, if the birds are chirping?), now more than resigned I’m pissed off. I always alternate those two states of mind … a little I’m pissed off a bit I’m resigned. What a sadness! Right now I was thinking about the fact that so far, although I have had some (very few) relationships (mostly online) it’s been me the one who did EVERYTHING. The others stayed passively with me (not in the sexual sense, but in the sense that they didn’t consider it too much important if they were with me or not), except for a boy. I feel so different, different from anyone. It doesn’t matter if gay or straight, If male or female, I feel different, almost on another planet. And this sensation it’s not very cool, it’s really distressing … sorry for the strange expression. Feeling so different … feeling that I can never really like someone … makes me want to disappear …
If you like, you can join the discussion on this post on Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-the-cry-of-pain-of-a-young-gay
Hi guys, my name is M., I’m a boy 16 and a half years old, I’ve always been very closed, with my parents I have practically no dialog, from last July 11th 2008, a day I will never forget, I practically hate them because my father caught me doing a wank in front of my computer while I was watching a gay site and he did something I will never forgive him for, before I had the chance to rearrange myself, he slapped me in the face and he left, and then he went to report everything to my mother, shouting like an obsessive man so as to be heard from all the neighbors. The windows were wide open because it was afternoon and it was hot but he was screaming: “My son is a fagot!” I hated him as I have never hated anyone and I was really upset, I thought I’d leave home, smash the windows of his car, spit in his face, because he is an asshole and he enjoys humiliating me!
My parents have always considered me piece of shit and now they think I’m an unrecoverable one who will not do anything in life but to get it in the backside and my father tells me such things in the face, according to them I will never do a normal life but it’s not true at school I’m quite good, not very good, but I can handle it even if I do the bare minimum and then I don’t care about school. I have very few friends, if I can even call them friends, because I prefer when I don’t see them.
I’m gay, it’s one of the few things I’m sure of, I do and always did all my fantasies and even all my wanks thinking only of boys, but I have a fucking fear of sex, I would never go to a community, I don’t know but I think that certain things would make me really sick. I have a fucking fear that someone can rape me, that can force me to do things I don’t want. For my age I’m quite developed and I shouldn’t be afraid of suffering things that I don’t want because I’m strong and I can defend myself, but I still have this fear.
Till July 11th, I thought I was gay but I thought it was a relative thing, not that it was a passing thing, but that it was not important for me, that I only needed it to wank, but from July 11th on I said to myself: “Fuck, I’m gay, it’s not just any thing, I’m gay!” And I told myself I had to overcome my fears, I was afraid of going to the community, even though I would do it in spite of my father.
Then I discovered the blog of Project, and then, from there, the forum. Reading gave me a feeling of a bit of fear but also a bit of strong curiosity. I didn’t have the courage to register on the forum, so I wrote to Project and I sent him my contact, through the blog. After I did it I felt very strange, I didn’t know what to think, I thought he would have answered me immediately, I have been waiting until two in the morning but he didn’t answer. I was nervous and disappointed, I said to myself: “This Project is an asshole like everyone else!”. Then I collapsed and I fell asleep.
Saturday morning I opened the computer at nine o’clock and Project had added me and was online. I didn’t know what to do, I felt in total embarrassment, then I called him. The first few minutes I didn’t know what to say, I was wrong to write, I just said stupid things and I wanted to close everything, I thought: “What am I doing here?” Then the thing changed and it was a strange thing, I told him the story of the slap that still burned me and not only on a psychological level, then I started talking about sex, masturbation, fantasies that pass through my head. That is, we talked about it freely, like normal things. I never experienced something like that.
Then I asked him so many things about sex that I didn’t know and he started to explain everything to me but just trying to make me understand things but without haste. And then, for a wank my father gave me a slap and started screaming, it’s okay that it was a gay wank but he reacted like that, with Project we talked a lot but just in another way. Then we also chatted in the following days. I like it so much when Project gives me the sermons on the meaning of life and tells me that I’m not at all a disgusting person, despite what my parents think and then it is not a preaching, he believes it and a little bit I believe it too. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. Damn, it’s short! But I send it the same.
If you like, you can join the discussion on this post on Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-gay-guys-between-rejection-and-dialogue
Hello Project, I finally find some time to write to you. A lot of things have happened in these weeks, but now I have to talk about my family. I will be very long in this e-mail, a real novel. But don’t worry, answer when you can. To endure the situation has become increasingly difficult, the fact that I live in a big city – despite coming home several times a month – keeps my parents in a state of absolute frenzy for the simple fact that they cannot control me. They are pathetic and incredibly oppressive, they are absolutely convinced, for example, that I go to the pool for some kind of obscure sexual reason, maybe because I met someone, so my father tells me: “It’s not that you go there to make some crap?”
Repeatedly and continuously they both say they will come to break into the house without notifying me. If there was only this I wouldn’t worry at all, the fact is that they are obsessed by the thought that I can be gay, so much to tell me constantly dirty things, which really so far I have never read in the e-mails of guys on Gay Project.
As soon as some girls appear on TV, my father comments disgustingly (in front of my mother) and then together they ask me questions like “Do you like them?” (Referring to half-naked girls’ tits), or ask me if I like their asses, they assail me with sexual questions!
Then I can also be holding back, but not hypocritical, so I will not answer these questions. And my father continues to insist, and to asks the same questions four, five times in a row, saying that it matters to him a lot. In practice they forced me to do a half coming out simply making me say that I don’t like female tits and asses.
My mother is not far behind my father. Watching a television service, in which was showed a manifestation of collective kisses, even gay, she grimaced, and his words were “What a disgusting thing, truly disgusting!” With an expression – that I know well – of such disgust, that I felt like dying. But the real boulder of this whole story is permanent, there is always and never goes away.
When we are together, I feel a sense of deep unease because they don’t respond as they should, sometimes they flash strange looks at me, all this in a climate of apparent normality but in fact I feel a never ending sense of guilt. I feel treated like someone who commits, who has committed or who continues to commit mistakes and, even if they don’t tell me, they are always there to remind me the same thing through the attitudes even if not trough the words. I cannot live anymore as if I had committed something, they make me feel wrong. And sometimes I believe it, and I tell myself that if I really didn’t have anything to hide of myself, I could very well tell the truth, but I never do.
I must add my uncle to contribute to this picturesque picture of the mentality of my family. One day while we are talking, he says to me: “Oh my God, do you know what happened yesterday in the bus? I was sleeping, but behind me I heard the voices of two lovers, at one point I turned around and they were two gays! So much disgusting! They were sitting there on the seats of the bus side by side, kissing each other and showing public effusions. Oh my God, too much disgusting! (And laughs amazed).
Even the driver could see them. Next to me on the left side of the bus, there were two old persons – a husband and a wife – who looked at them and laughed, how much they laughed! But I had checked that boy well, you could see that he was a bit poof, his behavior was strange and the hair very particular, and then waiting for him as if nothing had happened, there was his mother, as if it were all normal! Oh my God! Very disgusting!” Needless to say what I felt inside, however, I smile and say: “Here we are very narrow-minded, already in the north it’s something much more common.” He answers me decided: “No! Really! What rubbish, in public!” Conversation closed.
This is the mentality of 95% of the people of the lost little town in which I have the misfortune of living. Suffice it to say that my father – a man with a fixed idea (to have sex with women) – long ago, after all the psychic violence that I had to undergo by a psychologist to whom I was forcibly carried, he asked me: “So, are you healed? Are you sure you are healed?” For a man like him, the greatest divine punishment is a gay son. He doesn’t care about the university as much as he cares about the girls. He would much rather see me as a bricklayer with a family than as a lawyer without a family.
Speaking of sexuality, one thing I’ve never told you about sexuality is the distorted view I had when I was a child. I soon began to realize that I felt attracted to the boys, but I even remember that as a child (about 8 years old) when my mother was absent, occasionally – it happened no more than 3-4 times in all – that I dressed up as a woman, with heels and wig, and I played the woman, acted like a was a woman. It happened that once he caught me dressed as a woman, and I remember he did a real tragedy, while I didn’t give too much importance to the thing and I considered it simply a “forbidden game”.
However, when I was 12 and realized I was gay, in my mind I didn’t know the possibility of a love between man and man, I thought of the binomial man-woman as the only possible combination and so – as a boy falling in love with boys – I prayed all the evenings wondering why I had not been born a woman, why I was a boy and not a girl. Only with the passage of time I realized that I could love a man while being myself, that I didn’t have to be a woman, but I could very well be myself, and I finally understood the world, my world!
That said, it must be said that I’m absolutely not effeminate, indeed! Nobody who knows me superficially can think of me as a gay, so much so that people speak to me naturally about the various “pathetic scenes” that they see around, reiterating always the same thing just as a broken record: that “those” can be immediately detected.
The psychologist to whom I had been carried forcibly, do you know what he said to my parents? That a boy is gay if in childhood he disguised himself, if he played with dolls (something that I never did), if he had more female than male friendships, and similar things. Immediately my mother pointed her finger and said: “Yes, I remember that he disguised himself and played a lot more with the girls!” Today I think with anger at that idiot, however, not yet permanently disappeared from my world. He represented the one and great opportunity to really explain the gay world to my parents and push them to accept me, although I always denied everything.
Instead, after those forced sessions that have raped me deeply, their behavior has deteriorated considerably, and “coincidentally” in the last meeting they saw each other just my parents and him, without me. I don’t know what he could say, I only know that he was very close to the Church and the result is this, even if he constantly told me: “I have many gay friends, please open yourself with me”. I’m overjoyed not to have done it. To date I am increasingly convinced that it was a trap to make me “confess”.
I tell you this because somehow it relates to a particular episode that happened. Well, I returned home and in small towns like mine every bullshit, that is every small event that takes place becomes an unmissable event, so it happened that a simple comedy (also of mediocre quality, made by boys of about my age) became one of those unmissable events to which one cannot miss.
Sacrilege! I dared to refuse to follow the head of the family, the matron and the offspring, and for this reason, they did not spare their ruthless attacks when they returned. They told me things of all kinds, repeating many times the same phrase: “You don’t go out because of fear! You are afraid of people, you are an asocial (sometimes an abnormal) etc. “It has been a long time since I refuse to go out and (almost always) they accuse me of having “fear of people”.
I have good reasons for believing that it was the psychologist of that time who taught them this strange theory. It is precisely since then that they continue to say these things, but they have understood nothing. It is very true that I don’t go out in my little town at all, except for the times when I am obliged, but this happens for a simple reason: I don’t like going out with people who don’t are interested in me, because these are not friends but at most good acquaintances, for the reasons you know well, in addition to the fact that I don’t have a single topic in common with them, who run after gossip and grotesque events of the town like that of making an insipid comedy of poor quality.
But unfortunately I’m nothing short of isolated. On an entire town, everyone thinks that going out is sacrosanct and dutiful, everyone! It is a common opinion, from children to the elderly, people thinks that those who don’t go out at night have psychiatric problems and must be helped. The fact of preferring a film or a good book to a comedy of no value made by 15 years old boys or simply of preferring books and films to a simple exit in the evening in a village of 8 thousand souls, amazes them.
The theory of the psychologist that as I can deduce has been inculcated into the brains of my parents is this: “He doesn’t come out because he feels uncomfortable among people and this happens because he knows he is gay and recognizes that he is wrong, so you (my parents) have to help him suppress this diseased part of him by forcing him or putting him in the condition of frequenting normal people and going out.”
What happened? Just Sunday afternoon while I was back in Naples where I study, the daughter of a guy friend of my father (with his father standing nearby) calls me. Now, this girl I saw only once, before, asks me candidly: “Why don’t you go out? I called you because I never see you. I wanted to tell you that I would like you to come out with us or with me.”
Shocked! I was stunned, as well as deeply humiliated, and I was seriously tempted to send this silly girl to the hell, but then the kindness got the better and I explained to her calmly that Friday night I come home late, Saturday I’m busy with the sport and Sunday at 5 I go back to Naples, so I can’t go out. I assume without any doubt that all this was concocted by my parents, coincidentally the day after I missed the comedy. An episode, for a 21 year old treated like a child, of a humiliation that is easy to imagine.
Do you know what makes them infuriate more? It is the fact that every day more, as you have noticed, I raise my head and am more and more I’m proud of myself, of what I’m. And I make it understood in every way, in all possible implicit imaginable ways. I’m proud of myself and they don’t accept it at all. In the past, however, I was ashamed, blushed in front of gay characters on TV and they enjoyed it, as if to say: “he realizes he’s wrong, he’s in error”.
They understood that I’m proud of myself, and they are making life impossible for me. I’m alone like never before, I thank God every day for the fact that at least I’m spending a lot of time in Naples, far away, without them. At home I don’t even have a shred of freedom and dignity, since I cannot go not even in the bathroom without them spying me to see if I piss or do anything else.
I don’t imagine how it will be tomorrow, I’m working hard but in this situation I don’t know how much I will resist. I’m without friends and without – I don’t say love – but at least a story, and this is making me hard like a stone towards life. Sometimes I cry, remembering what it was like once, when I was 11-14 years old, when everything had not yet started, when the simplicity of friendships was the only important thing in my life. Now I’m disillusioned, dead inside, without even a family in the true sense of the word, with an incredible hardness, unusual to find in a 21 year old guy.
I see them, my peers, running for clubs, fighting for true friendships, crying for the first love ended bad, rejoicing for the first kiss, the first time, and pursuing the dream of a life, a life possible. My path of life instead will be perhaps not foregone, but in the meantime I dream of being able to go to discos for people like me, I cannot fight for true friendships, I don’t cry for the first loves ended, I don’t rejoice for the first kiss or for the first time, and I chase the dream of an impossible life.
If you like, you can join the discussion on this post on Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-a-gay-guy-harrassed-by-his-parents
Hello Project, I am writing to you for a reason that for some years does not make me live well, my son is a homosexual. Believe me, for me and my wife it was a very difficult thing to accept and we did many things that you consider absurd, and rightly I mean, because we didn’t know what to do. But I tell you the story from the beginning because you are a person who does a lot for the boys and you can give me a serious opinion.
I am almost 50 years old and my wife 47, our son is 24 and we also have a girl of 16, this to make you understand. We are not rich but we work in two and thank God we don’t miss anything. We don’t have a dialogue with our son anymore, maybe we didn’t even have it before. Until 14 years old he was a guy like everyone else, then, I don’t know how it happened, but he changed completely, while before we used to talk with each other, after, the blackout has been total. We thought at first that they were teenagers things and we didn’t worry. He developed early and at the age of 16 he was already a handsome guy, but he was on one side and we on the other. Everything we said was wrong for him. He used to shut himself up in his room and we didn’t know anything about him, he went out of his room hardly to eat, but at school he was good, he never gave us any problems, in short, we thought it was all right.
But he always wanted money, always money, he said for the phone and we got a little suspicious. I told him: give me the number and I can recharge the money myself and he agreed, so the money was really for the phone, on the one hand we reassured, but on the other not. We said to ourselves: but who’s he calling, spending so many money? We thought that there was a girl, because many of his attitudes made us think so, when he had to call he always called from his room and closed himself inside and nothing could be heard because he spoke very softly. Once we told him that he had to let us know the girl, but he replied that it was only his business and that we had to stay in our place.
The thing that really ruined our life (I say truly ruined) happened one day when he was 17 years old. He had to stay at school and I had to go to work in Naples. I arrived in Naples, in the place where I had to go to work and I could not access there because the firemen were there and sent us home, I don’t know why. I go back to my country by bus and pass near a place with wooden tables where people go to eat on Sundays and I see my son hugged with another guy I had never seen. It was a moment but it was really my son, because he wore a very particular jacket that I recognized immediately. So I asked the driver to make me get off right away and he stopped the bus, but the bus was already a long way ahead of where I had saw my son. I started running towards them and they were hugged in a way that you could not go wrong. As they saw me they got terribly scared. The one who was with my son was not a boy, he was 40, I didn’t restrain anymore and threw myself on him and my son defended him and told me such words that I would never have imagined by my son.
I screamed that my son was a minor and that I would have reported him to the police, but there was nobody, I wanted to kill him but he was stronger than me and it was he who was killing me and he left me on the ground that I could not even move then he took the car and ran away but I saw the license plate number. I wanted to talk to my son but he left me and went away with no word.
When I came home and told my wife everything, she was dying. At first I thought that I had to beat up my son badly and that other one had I to report him to the police, but what can you do in a village like mine? You cannot go to the village lawyer. I made an appointment and went to Naples the same afternoon but the lawyer told me that at 17 years is not a crime if there is no violence and the judge about violence asks the victim, but my son before saying that it was violence, would have killed me. You can imagine what I was feeling inside myself.
I come home that it was late at night and my son had not come back home. You cannot imagine what I went through that night, I thought that he had thrown himself into the river from the bridge and furthermore because of me. He didn’t answer the cell phone. I didn’t know whether to go to the police, I didn’t know what to do. Then my wife thought about and said: you have to apologize otherwise he can make some inconsiderate gesture, if he haven’t already done it, we thought of a message like this: “dad apologizes for what happened, it was a moment of madness forgive me!” I wrote it and we sent it, but you don’t even imagine how much it cost me. After a night of terror like that, that my son was a homosexual it seemed almost acceptable to me, as long as he was not dead.
I prayed to Our Lady saying: “if you save him, it’s enough for me, I’ll accept him well even if he’s a homosexual”. He replied to the message by saying that I had ruined his life and that he would have hated me for life, but he had replied, we told him that he had to come back home that we had now understood and that we would not have hindered him anyway. The next evening he came back home but slamming the door and avoiding to look us in the face. He entered and closed himself inside.
In short, so began the hell in our house and everything under the eyes of his sister. When we were at home he was locked inside, with us he never ate, he took from the refrigerator what he wanted and brought it to his room. In the morning he went out for school and I didn’t know anything about it. Then I went to talk with the teachers and they told me that he had been absent too many times, before I got into a fight with that guy but the teachers said that now luckily he had started going to school seriously because if he continued as before he would have risked the rejection. So he went to school and studied as well. He didn’t ask us for money, because he is also very proud and how he was able to move forward I don’t know at all.
But we couldn’t go on like this. In short, my wife and I took courage and we faced our son and understood something. The 40-year-old guy was gone and my son was angry. He told me he was homosexual because of us and then we got in the way to stop him. So we argued violently but at least we talked a bit. We didn’t know what to do. Hidden from him we went to a psychologist in Naples who told us that we had to go to him all together, I, my wife and my son, that he could help us to feel better but if my son was a homosexual, he would stay homosexual and we said that we were resigned to this but at least we were looking for some peace. We tried to tell him about our son but he looked at us like two idiots and told us that instead we really wanted him to become heterosexual.
My wife tried to tell my son what the psychologist had said but he thought it was a trick and he didn’t even listen to us. So even the story of the psychologist has ended in nothing. Our Lady! My wife and I talked a lot, we said, well, if you find a young boy of your age you can do it, if he is attentive to people, because here where we live if people find out that you are a homosexual you become the fable of the country and you can’t live here anymore, to other boys it happened so. We tried to tell him it and he became a fury: that it was only his business and that’s it. And, do you know what he did? He just turned 18 years old, and the day after he told the whole village everything, but with all the story that I had got into a fight with that guy. Our Lady! how much I was ashamed! Not of the fact that he was homosexual but of what people were saying, of how they considered him and us. So we were put on the streets as an subject to chat about, but the first to end badly it was him, it was something that could not go on and he didn’t want to go to school anymore and he had to do the final exam.
So we had to send him to a private school in Naples, we also took a mini-apartment, to let him feel free there and we went to live in the countryside but for me and my wife there were more hours of travel to go to work and for the sister to go to school. We were afraid that he didn’t want to go to at school in Naples because it was up to us to pay for it and also for the house, but then he didn’t create any problems because even for him it was impossible to live in the village.
Our phone calls are limited to: How are you? All right, bye. We send him money via money order, we never ask for anything, at 22 he took his first degree but he didn’t tell us and we didn’t ask anything, we knew it from a guy who studies the same things that he studies. In practice we have no relationship with our son, he considers us enemies, probably, I don’t know, but now he is 24 years old.
But why do things have to end this way? I tried to think how he can feel and I think he feels uncomfortable too. But why do we have to keep going like this? It is seven years that this story goes on like this and I don’t see light. He is homosexual, I understand it, I read so many things to understand better, even those that you wrote and that helped me a lot. Now I can say that my wife and I finally accepted it. If we made mistakes we didn’t do it out of malice but because we didn’t understand anything about these things. If you were now in my place, what would you do? Believe me, I tried many times to talk with my son but he did not want to know anything about it, but we love him, if he brings home a boy instead of a girl, for us it will be the same, but why should we look like two enemies? I tell you with tears in my eyes, I would embrace him but I’m afraid it will not happen anymore! If you want to put this letter in the forum, put it, but answer me only privately. Now I come to understand that you do good things for the boys, but believe me it’s difficult for a parent to get there.
I respect you so much. A. B.
[the original email shows full name and surname]
If you like, you can join the discussion on this post on Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-anguish-of-the-father-of-a-gay-son